


Circular Connections

by Sandolious



Series: Star Trek One-Shots [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandolious/pseuds/Sandolious
Summary: In this universe, we all have a Other, the one who shares half our soul and heart. After death, we are reborn, always searching for and finding the Other. But sometimes, the universe's cruelty lasts for life times.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Star Trek One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859128
Kudos: 35





	Circular Connections

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on fanfiction.net and ksarchive under illogicallybold. 10/24/2012

Circular Connections By Illogically Bold

_"With the energy of an exploding supernova, dense atomic particles traveling faster than light, whispers of butterfly wings and the softest caresses of my fingertips across your bare flesh, I wish you were mine."_

_You tilt your head, ever so slightly to the left causing wisps of hair to fall into your eyes as your eyebrows rise in question._

_"The energy to keep you entertained, engaged and fulfilled. The speed to match you pace in life's journey, the sharp wit of your tongue, and the thoughts racing through your head. The whispers and caresses to worship your body and mind, cherishing your every inch, expounding upon your perfection and imperfect appeal."_

_You open your mouth as if to speak, but unexpectedly you jolt, body twisting, eyes wide. I have no words for the way your body drops heavily to the floor or the shocking horror as I realize there is blood pooling around your body. There is nothing but incomprehension as my hands shake, pressing deeply into the wound, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding. Your mouth opens again, forming words I cannot hear, voice lost. I stutter in confusion, telling you, I don't understand the important message you are trying to relay to me. Shaking my head, tears dripping, I lower my ear to your mouth hoping to catch even the faintest whispers of your voice._

_I hold my breath, praying. Then I hear it, your last words. My heart bursts in elation, then abruptly shatters as you choke and your body stills. I cannot move, hands still poised over the wound, head still tilted over your mouth._

_Pulling my hands away, I sit up. The sky is still blue, the sun is still hot upon my neck, and the wind blows gently through my hair. I look down at my hands, painted green with your blood, and immediately hate the color... but, my breath stutters in my chest, it is you and never can I hate you._

_My soul. My heart. My love."_

The class is silent, all eyes on the speaker. Though the echoes of his voice have faded, none have spoken or moved. The professor, bewilder in the front of the classroom stares at his student, who up until this day, has shown not a single degree of attention or retention for the course. Perhaps though, the student was simply not inspired or engaged with the other units, because this piece of prose spoke of life experience and deep emotions.

"Mister Kirk. A deeply moving piece to share. May I ask where you got the inspiration?"

  
His student, James Kirk, shrugged a shoulder, eyes still on the paper before him.

  
"It came to me in a dream."

  
"If only we all had such vivid imaginations." The professor smiled, gesturing for Kirk to return to his seat.

"Memory. Not a dream." Kirk murmured, under his breath as the class continued.

He could fill books with the memories he had, all similar. The same two people; different bodies, different genders, different looks, but always the same two people, reborn in different lives. Always centered on the moment of confession. Then something would interfere and one of them would be lost – to sea, or cliff, to death or capture, to space or ice. Separated until death only to restart the journey. How cruel, Jim thought late at night, these two would be brought together and parted so many times in so many ways. A single moment of happiness followed by a lifetime of sorrow.

Should he ever see the other, no matter the depth of connection felt, he would not connect with them; refused to be a pawn in life's game of suffering. He swore if he ever met Spock in this lifetime, they would be eternal enemies. Nothing more.

If he did not love then he would never know the pain of loss, would never feel the soul-encompassing pit of despair, he knew from his dreams. He would protect himself and live a quiet boring life.

And he did, for two more months.

But at a science and mathematics symposium event hosted at his school, standing in the ballroom, dressed in a casual black suit, their eyes met. Bright blue locking with soft brown and he was lost before his mind had even a hundredth of a second to hide away his heart, it was already in the other's gentle grasp. His breath stuck in his throat as memories of life times flashed before his eyes. Every single one, filled to the brim with this man, standing one hundred feet away from him.

The other's mouth opened, as if to speak... lips shaping words he could not hear.

  
Jim stumbled back, the brutal memory of the other's death, fresh in his mind. He shook his head, tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

Instantly, moving almost at the speed of light, Spock was there. A long fingered hand, tinted olive green brushed a lock of hair from Jim's forehead.

Jim, speechless, opened his mouth and closed it without a single sound escaping. Blue eyes watched as the corner of the Vulcan's mouth twitched. Spock leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of Jim's ear as his soft tenor voice spoke.

"My Jim. I cherish thee."

  
Once again, as it always happens, his heart bursts in elation. However, this time...

  
... It doesn't shatter.

**Author's Note:**

> Author Note: Short, I know however it fits my mood. Did it illicit emotion? Should it be deleted? Was it worth it? * shrug * Sometimes I don't know.


End file.
